I Trusted You
by WindsorCastle
Summary: "I reached back and grabbed his hand before he could completely undo my dress, but at that move he suddenly grabbed my wrists and pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms tight against my stomach and resting his forehead heavily on my shoulder. I froze for barely a second, before melting against his body with a shiver and a sigh..." Set during the Golden Age.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of C. 's

Of Sisters & Butcher's Boys

My sister was so beautiful. So graceful and poise. So beautifully sculpted and curved. I admit, when I was only a few years younger I would sit and watch her and think jealous thoughts about how much I'd like to pull the perfect hair, scratch that perfect face, and get those perfect nails full of dirt and grime. She was only a couple years my senior and her nineteenth birthday had just passed. On that day our father had gifted her with an engagement. A wedding engagement, if you were thinking other. To a king, no less! Our father was no king, but he was a lord, and rich, oh my, very rich. I had never been wanting. Always my life had been at the height of perfection and food and riches and food and horses and food and-oh listen to me talking about myself when this is about my sister. Everything was about my sister…

This king, who was to be my brother-in-law, was one of two kings ruling the same land, along with two queens who were also their sisters. I had never heard anything like it and it was just about as utterly confusing as a thing could be. You know the story, don't you? Of course you do. Everyone does. I had heard it so many times it could almost be used as a torture treatment on me now.

This land was not far…well, compared to most it was not far. Only a two week's journey, or so I was told. My father had made it many times since the coronation of the confusing two kings and two queens, for he had hoped to one day pawn off one of his daughters to one of those boys and now he finally had what he wanted. Well dang, I say. I had never liked my father. No one could ever be as rich as he and still be kind and giving and gentle, but he didn't even get as far as decent. The butcher's boy had even told me that there were rumors about the city that he had been the one who murdered my mother by drowning her in the river, just before my seventh birthday. I had been mad at him for saying such dreadful things at the time, but I really liked that butcher's boy. Handsome of course, and kind as any man could be. When I was thirteen I had secretly vowed to marry him one day, even though I knew he would probably, and completely understandably, only ever want me for my quite notable dowry. I was such a scraggly, homely child. I spoke too quietly most of the time, and the rest of it was spent shouting in a most unladylike manner. I had ruined countless pairs of slippers and sandals, and many gowns, romping about when I was younger. I was known for always having at least a little mud on me. My hair was so soft and fine that it tangled maddeningly easily, and I usually just had it tied back without even bothering to brush through its painful knots. Governesses had long since given up on me, and my last one left not quite five years ago, when I was twelve. The maids despaired, and even the manservants tended to look on with strained grimaces.

I like to say that I had grown tamer since those days. Now that I was approaching my eighteenth year I was taking more care to be the young lady I should; the young lady that my sister had been her whole life. My scraggly little arms and legs had filled out nicely, and I wore elegant, shape-fitting dresses, brushed out my long, light-brown hair in a tidy braid down my back, kept my pace to a walk…indoors, at least, and focused more on my embroidery and harp, rather than horses and wooden swords. I was fairly certain that my father intended to take advantage of my sister's engagement to king by pawning me off to the first high bidder with a title, and surprisingly, I had no qualms with this. I had no fantasy of true love or real happiness. As far as I knew, I was already happy and perfectly content, so long as I had a horse to escape on, should ever the need arise, and food.

In my opinion, it should be the groom's duty to travel the distance to his bride's home, and not the reverse. It was downright ungentlemanly of him! I was told that he was a king and so therefore it would be below station for him to travel to his wedding, but I was still rather put-out at the prospect of two weeks in a stuffy carriage with only my sister for companionship. At least our father had his own private carriage, and I was glad. I never liked being any less than five feet away from him. Strange, I know, but he gave me such an odd, insecure, just downright awkward feeling.

"Do you think Her Majesty, Queen Susan, will be more beautiful than I?" I stopped staring forlornly out of the carriage and turned to give my sister a look which said many things, none of which should ever be written. Ignoring my glance, she raised her eyebrows slightly, awaiting an answer.

"No." I had to be honest. My sister was beyond stunning. She was a little proud, and a little vain, but also kind-hearted and gentle and that always makes everyone even more beautiful.

She beamed at me and leaned forward slightly, clasping her jeweled hands. "I want you to find a husband for yourself while we're at the Cair," she said softly. "I want to make sure you're out of Father's charge as soon as possible."

"You shouldn't say such things. Someone could hear and tell him," I whispered back, but I felt a quick warmth and appreciation for my sister in that moment. "You know, there are two kings, after all." I gave her a mischievious look and she raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"His Majesty, High King Peter, is your senior by seven years," she said. "And I will be marrying His Majesty, King Edmund."

"I was only kidding, Lorelle." I sighed and turned back to the leather flaps which covered the windows. "Is King Edmund handsome, you think?"

"I hear he is a bit of a brooder," she replied, "but, yes, also that he is quietly striking to the eye. Actually…" she leaned even further forward and lowered her voice, giving me a wink and a mischievous grin, "I heard that women fall at his feet and fight for him during balls and galas, and that he trains with his sword three hours a day. Oh the strain those arms must take." She looked like a little girl for a moment, exclaiming over a pretty doll on display at a fair. "Honestly, Wren, there is talk that his looks far surpass even that of Queen Susan's! Oh and the Cair. Have you heard Father's stories about the beauty of the Cair? The great Hall with all its dazzles and chandeliers, and bedchambers with ten rooms! It shall be beyond magnificent! Oh this is all too exciting now. I shall never sleep these two weeks!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing of C. S. Lewis'

Of Ruins and Royal Murderers

She did though. Indeed, we had so much time for sleep. Not that it was restful, mind you. The road was uneven and rocky, and there were too many obstacles which the men had to stop and clear away so the carts and carriages could pass. If we had been on horseback, or even in a smaller carriage it would have been difficult, but not impossible, to force our way through. But Father's carriages were all so large and luxurious, and I'm not sure there was a smaller one among them to be found. All in all, by the end of the fifteenth day, I just wanted to get there. I did not care if there were the most dreadful murderers and attackers awaiting our arrival, so long as I could be out of the blasted coach for longer than ten minutes, I would happily accept any terms.

Approximately seven miles from our destination, Father ordered our worn, little party to halt by a large creek so that Lorelle and I could bathe ourselves before being presented to their majesties. I fully admit that I was no less than a hot, sticky, smelly mess, but after a full half-hour of scrubbing and splashing and scraping our white skin to a burning red with fresh bars of rose-hip soap, I believe that I was somewhat presentable. We were brought elegant and slightly more formal gowns to slip into, and sweet smelling oils to fragrance our freshly washed bodies. I felt like I was wearing an entirely new outfit of skin. Now all I wanted was hot food and a warm bed. Kings and queens be hanged.

It was mid-day, and I knew we still had at least another hour or travel before our arrival, when at last I would be free. Lorelle finished tying up the lace to the back of my dress and then had me do hers. Then, taking one of the sheets of cloth set out on a rack for us by the servants, she proceeded to massage my head in such a rough and desperate manner, I swear she meant to scalp me.

"I'm not sure now," she said quietly. "I do not feel right to be marrying a man in three weeks whom I have never even laid eyes on." She jerked the cloth on the ends of my hair and I winced slightly. "Sorry…"

"No, no." I shifted out of her reach and took the cloth from her hands, handing her a fresh one to use on herself. "As you said once, your life and his will be very separate."

"I…I need some time to think, Ren," she spoke even softer, using my pet nickname so I knew she was serious. "Just a few minutes, please."

I ran the drying cloth once more over my wet mess of hair and tried not to look overly thrilled. "Well then, I'll just go for a walk, shall I?" It was hard to keep the eagerness out of my voice, but I do not think she would have noticed anyway. She merely nodded.

After sending our dresser back to the carriages to let Father know when we should be back, I removed my slippers, hiked up my flowing skirts, crossed that blessed creek and headed out to the deliciously green meadow I could see peaking through the trees, avoiding mud and dusty leaves and sticky brush as best I could. Because of a light fall of rain from earlier that morning, the grass still glistened in the afternoon sunlight, as though a million little fairies had just come and sprinkled little baby stars all about. Oddly enough, there were no flowers, but straight out in front of me, about fifty paces away, large blocks of what looked like to be the remains of ruins stood their ground. I stared and squinted, and I am sure that I must have looked something of a slightly impaired creature. They looked almost like the ruins of ruins; the remains of an already pick-over skeleton. The animal was dead, the flesh was gone, there was nothing of any worth left.

I walked slowly, still holding the skirts of my dress above my ankles to avoid the wetness of the leftover raindrops. Running would have been most improper, but I could not help but think about half-way across that, had I been wearing pants, I would have been then by now.

The ruins may as well have been merely large, lumpy rocks in the middle of a field. They held no shape or form, and it was apparent that the castle they had once been had met its last day to siege and catapults. Tall grass and weeds grew ramped, and prickly thistles hid where my eyes could not see to avoid. Pausing by a large hunk of stone and plaster, I decided that it would be best to return later with shoes and more suitable clothing.

"Hello."

I gave the most unladylike, throaty shriek of surprise and whirled to face my "attacker," (or so my mind was screaming to me). Any normal person would have been expecting to see one of my father's guards sent to fetch me back to the carriages, but no, I could only think of the worst murderer who delighted in killing of defenseless girls lost in the countryside with no means of escape or rescue.

If he was a murderer though, I am not sure that I would have objected much to being murdered by his hand. He had very nice hands. Actually, he had very nice everything. His clothes, which were to the style of a hunter or outdoorsman, were not particularly grand, but they were very well tailored, and I noticed a fine, gold fringe rimming the edge of his sleeves. (So, he must be of some importance.) His hair was a very dark brown and messy, falling over his forehead and into his chocolate-brown eyes. He looked young in years, but in his face shone wisdom and experience far beyond any youth's natural age. He was smiling at me, in a a crooked and almost mischievous manner, and his jaw-line was shady and bristly, with a needing for a shave. Large hands fingered a black hunting bow and a long, leather quiver, but I noticed that he had nothing to show for it. The butcher's boy definitely would have had plenty.

"I believe there may be broken particles of glass where you are standing, milady." Speaking again, he snapped me out of my thoughts, and I stood a little straighter and tried to walk forward cooly, while glancing as subtly as I could around my feet for the said shards of glass.

"You have a strong war cry there, milady." He chuckled. "My apologies. You are the Lady Dakadore, I presume?"

Feeling slightly embarrassed and taken aback at his words, I quickly shut my slightly agape mouth and shook my head. "Lady Dakadore is my sister," I said. "I'm just Wren. Lady Wren, I guess. You're from the Cair? Yes, you must be. We stopped only for a while to rest and bathe. Is the road good from here on? Ugh, if we have to stop one more time I don't think I can bear it. Glass, you say? Where? I'm not wearing my slippers. I would have ruined them in the wet grass, but now I am fearing that I will be ruining my feet even more. Well where is the glass? Am I safe to walk to you? What's wrong?"

I could talk fast when I was nervous, but I was hardly ever nervous, and my sudden outburst surprised myself just as much as it seemed to startle him. Now it was his turn to stare, with mouth slightly agape. He shook his head a little.

"Her sister?"

Had he heard nothing else that I had just said? Right now, I was more concerned about the glass. I squinted indignantly at him and tip-toed towards the edge of the ruins. He offered me a hand, which I assumed was to aid me in climbing off the small pile of stone blocking the entrance, but I just shook it in short acknowledgement and stepped off myself.

"I will be returning to our carriages now," I said shortly. "You should probably go try a little more of your luck with that." I motioned towards his bow and empty hands, and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"My sister is the archer in the family," he said sheepishly.

"I-I think, er..." I felt awkward now. How rude of me. "Well, good day, sir."

He did not bow, he did not even nod respectfully. How impudent! Certainly, he was below my station. But he just stood there, staring.

I did not walk as slowly. In fact, I fairly ran. How odd and obscure that was. I had not even gotten his name. He had had such a gentle smile, and his voice was so soft and comforting, but at the same time deep and safe-sounding. There had been several little scars near his chin and temples, so obviously a sword, and not the bow, was his main choice of weaponry. With this conclusion, I also decided that he must be a soldier in the High King's army, and I felt even more ashamed with my bluntness and short words.

At the edge of the meadow, just before I disappeared into the line of trees, I turned to glance back for a moment.

He was still staring.

* * *

As soon as the first peaks of the great castle of Cair Paravel poked into view, I quickly closed the leather flaps of all the windows and flattened myself against the back of my cushioned seat. I wanted to wait until I could see all the splendor at once, right before my eyes. To stare up at the towers so high that I was practically leaning back on my heels, and still there would be more to see. Having it all appear so slowly, peak after peak, window after gaping window, tower after tower…well, there was just nothing very dramatic or romantic about that.

Lorelle frowned and raised her window flap again. "Don't tell me you're scared of their majesties already."

"Pffft," I blew out indignantly. "I think I may have met someone from the Cair already, actually."

"Hm?" That caught her attention. "Who? The royal donkey?"

Choosing to ignore her mockery, I smooth my rustled skirts neatly, and folded my hands delicately on my lap, sniffing primly, for effect of course. "The royal murderer."

"Excuse me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize in advance, ladies and gents. This chapter is rather boring, but first impressions are really important when you're trying to capture a relationship between two characters. The next will be plenty more interesting, I assure you**

Disclaimer: I own nothing of C. S. Lewis'

Of Introductions and Crooked Smiles

"Lorelle?"

We were now in full view of the Cair and all its magnificence. In nary a minute or two, we would be presented to their majesties, and our future family, although I doubted that I would ever feel towards them the way I felt towards my late mother, or my sister.

Being the impatient imp I could be sometimes, I had thrown the leather flaps open the minute I felt the evening sun rays hit from above as we broke from the shade of the thick trees. I must have stared a little too long, with my mouth agape a little too wide, for Lorelle had given me a rather odd look after a moment and tapped my nose, the way she used to do years ago. Upon taking a look for herself, however, her face had slowly frown an ashy pale, and it was now her turn to flatten herself against the back of her seat, clutching the leather flap as if it was the only thing holding her between this life and the next.

"Lorelle? Lorelle, we are almost upon the gate," I whispered, trying my best to sound gentle and soothing, but my voice came out mostly raspy and uncertain. Gentle are soothing were not some of my strongpoints. "Lorelle, please…here." I took both her hands in mine and squeezed as tightly as I could. When that seemed to have no real effect, I took advantage of my situation and started to clap her hands together, as one would do that of a child.

"Oh, Ren, stop that! I'm perfectly alright now. Oh honestly, Ren, how old are you acting?"

I forced one of her hands up to tap herself on the nose as she scolded me before I released her, leaning back again, peeking cautiously out of my window as the carriage slowly jolted to a halt. "We're here."

Lorelle was still pale, though not as deathly as she had been. I watched in wonder as a long line of at least forty mighty centaurs, lining the gateway up to the great castle doors, hoisted massive swords high above their heads in a sharp and shining arch; a royal salute. Four jeweled and gowned figures moved down the line, crowned with silver and gold, glistening in the evening light. I swallowed hard and coughed, for my mouth had suddenly felt very dry and my hands were clammy. Lorelle was starting to look close to death's door again.

"Your majesties!" I heard my father's silky voice exclaim in greeting.

"Lord Dakadore, you are most welcome!" That must of been the High King, King Peter, for it sounded manly and deep and that of a true man, and King Edmund was a mere twenty years of age.

"Lord Dakadore, I bid you welcome to Cair Paravel once again." That was a woman's voice, and Queen Susan's I presumed. It sounded so mature and wise, and yet soothing and motherly.

"Allow me to introduce my eldest daughter, Lady Lorelle Dakadore of Cice, to your majesties."

I tapped foot lightly with my own, and she flashed me a nervous smile, pinching her cheeks to bring some color back into them. The carriage door was opened, and the hairy hand of a tall faun was offered to assist her in descending the short step to the ground. She stepped out so gracefully and perfectly poise and calm, completely collected. She was a true lady.

"My Lady Lorelle. Welcome, my dear." That voice…why did that voice sound so peculiarly familiar? For one sickening moment, I prayed silently that it did not belong to the great lord whom I had accidentally tripped up and splashed pig dung on in the city two years before.

"Let me also introduce you to my other daughter, Lady Wren of Cice."

I was not nervous. I was too eager to be free of that infernal carriage and the infernal smell of too much infernal perfume. Accepting the hand offered, I stepped out lightly, plastering a pleasant smile to my face, curtsied slowly, and finally lifted my eyes to gaze upon the four royals.

Oh. Damn.

"Lady Wren, it is such a pleasure to have someone of my own age to greet!" the lovely Queen Lucy exclaimed in kind and far to generous exuberance. "And we are to be sisters! How I am excited!"

"Lucy," the lady, Queen Susan, reprimanded gently, placing a hand on her younger sister's arm. "Welcome, Lady Wren."

"Your majesties." My voice sounded shaky and I cursed myself for it. I stood beside Lorelle and folded my hands in front of me, as any well-bred lady should, resisting the urge to clutch at my skirts and hang my head. I wished myself dead. I would take those murderers and assassins now.

High King Peter went through all the curteous and expected formalities, how we must be tired and worn from such a journey, and how we would all have seats at the high table at dinner that evening, and here, we would be shown to our rooms so that we could refresh ourselves and we would be sent a currier to show us to the banquet hall at the proper time.

As we started walking down under the arch of steel swords still raised high above the soldiers heads, King Edmund broke from his place next to his brother, and stepped back to walk beside me as I tried to lag behind as far as possible so as not to have to say anything to anybody of importance…which was everybody. I held my breath, waiting for those fateful words, but they never came.

"Milday, I am afraid that your request was not so fulfilled, and my hands remain empty," he said, with a cheeky grin. "I am more suitable for steel than string. I would have you come down to the sparing ring and see for yourself during your stay here." He leaned down, his lips barely brushing softly across my ear, and I forbid myself to shiver with thrilling chills as my body so wanted to. "There is much to see, here in Narnia, milady." That gentle, crooked smile. I gulped hard so I would not choke on my words.

"My king, my deepest apologies! I had no idea…"

"I hope that you will still be as open and honest with me, even now that you do," he said in obvious amusement. Then, without even waiting for my response, he moved up to walk beside Lorelle, offering her his arm, and I could not help but think of how well they looked together.

Contrary to my belief, those great doors did not lead into the castle itself, but just a courtyard, which led to another courtyard, and another, all bustling with life, which paused for barely a breathing moment as we passed through, and decked out with garlands and wreaths and banners to welcome the visitors and the bride of their king. The main doors to the great Hall were more magnificent and extraordinary than anything I could ever have imagine, and I could not help but wonder at the strength of the centaurs who opened them with low bows to the royals.

My lips were pressed tightly together, or else I most certainly would have resembled something of a large, human fish with breathing issues. I breathed out slowly in sheer amazement when I stepped across the wide threshold and beheld the Hall for the first time. Lorelle, too, seemed taken in by the majestic regality, but Father was too busy discussing politics and whatnot with the High King, for he had seen it many times before. I saw King Edmund, out of the corner of my eye, turn to glance at me and smile at my, no doubt, most ridiculous expression of wonder and awe, and in the midst of all the excitement and beauty, my stomach growled.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing of C. S. Lewis'

Of Wine and Mockery

"My lady? Lady Wren?"

"Lady Wren, the king addresses you."

"Lady Wren, are you ill?"

"Ren!" I jolted out of my daydream as Lorelle hissed my name through gritted teeth and kicked my shin soundly under the cover of the large, richly furnished High Table. How she had ever managed that, I do not know. Queen Susan sat between us.

It had been several days since our arrival, and nothing had happened. I had barely left my chambers, save for meals, where I merely sat and ate, saying nothing to anybody unless they happened to pass a word or two in my direction, which was next to never. Lorelle fretted about getting to know her future husband at all before the marriage, for King Edmund was hardly seen at all, even for meals. There was talk of a great ball Queen Susan was arranging, to formally announce the engagement, but that was not for another week.

I was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts from back home; mother's death, my sister's future, the butcher's boy…anything to take my mind off the roasted cabbage stew and smoked pigeon set before me. There had been lovely, warm, fresh bread and cold cheese, but now I knew I had to eat my main course, lest I offend someone and have to bear my father's wrath. There had also been wine, but after downing nearly two goblets in mere seconds, I had noticed King Edmund staring at me, from across the table, with a funny look on his face, and then whispering something inaudible to one of the fauns serving at the high table, and the next time he refilled my cup I tasted nothing but clean, cold water. I had given the young king a hard stare, feeling slightly more bold and daring after the wine, and he returned the look with one of amusement and stuck his lower lip out ever so slightly in a mock pout, pretending to me, I gathered. I refused to look at him again.

"My lady, Wren, I ask, have you had ever seen the sea before your stay here at the Cair?" High King Peter spoke again, and I felt my face glow crimson at my impudence.

"My apologies, sire." I could almost feel the dreadful, warning look Father was sending my way. "I have once, when I was much younger. My mother took my sister and I, though to view it from the Cair is truly marvelous. Its looks bigger tenfold to see it from so high." The many levels of Cair Paravel were built partly upon a massive cliff, overlooking the ocean, and my own very room, close to the top, had such a beautiful view.

"Ah." The High King smiled, pleased. "Yes, that is what a lot of our visitors and friends have said. Edmund here, he doesn't like the sea though." He motioned towards his brother, who shot him a look of annoyance.

"I love the sea!" Lorelle spoke up quickly, and I was almost surprised with the brightness of her tone. "My lord, what is your quarrel with the waters?"

"Um…er…" King Edmund shifted in his seat and fingered his knife awkwardly. "Peter only meant that I would rather have other things to do than play in the water like a child."

"Swimming is childish?" I said with a frown.

"I would prefer fresh water for that. Don't have to bother to rinse off any salt and sand."

"Salt is good for one's hair, or so my mother said."

"I have never heard that theory."

"Are you saying my mother was wrong?"

"Milady," Edmund broke his gaze with me and looked down at his plate, controlling an amused smile. "The ocean is all yours to swim in at your pleasure. Would you have me join you that badly?"

Embarrassment flushed my face and I felt the eyes of everyone, within twenty paces, fall upon me. I could have said many things to him then that would have had us both then equally embarrassed, but instead I ignored the comment, the looks, and the awkwardness of the silence that resounded around the hall, and grabbed for my goblet of water. Queen Susan started speaking quietly to Lorelle, the High King turned to my father, and the noise returned with a swoosh and bustle, and the chinking of glasses and busy silverware.

I dared cast a glance toward the younger king, at caught his gaze once again as he stared at me under dark brows and a sober, thoughtful expression. Just so he could see my defiance, and feeling more bold and brash than ever, I snatched up my sister's own goblet of the rich wine and drank deeply, glowering.

He never broke his fixed stare, nor the stern expression that he held, but from deep within those dark eyes I could have sworn I saw a little twinkle, and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

* * *

My bedchambers really were splendid. I had been far too exhausted and droopy-eyed to notice when I was first shown through the door, but they were, in my humble opinion, fit even for the queen of all queens, king of all kings (which, I guess, is the High King, after all), and the next morning I had lain in my luxurious, four-poster bed and stared with open mouth at the intricate and detailed hunting scene painted on the ceiling, with a backdrop of a lovely red, bright as a ripe tomato.

There was a large fireplace which seemed to always be burning and crackling in a most satisfying manner. Also a beautiful, mahogany vanity, with a massive wardrobe and several little tables scattered about to match, and all with the face of a great lion etched in somewhere about their carvings. The stoney floor was covered with dark red and gold rugs which felt so soft and thick one could lose one's own toes in their cushiony bed. An oversized, oaken chair with the most elaborate carvings of various fauns, dryads, and little men with long beards sat next to the fireplace, and big, squarish candleholders covered in old wax and dust were posted firmly in the middle of every wall. It was no wonder that I preferred to keep to this little haven of mine, rather than wander aimlessly around the Cair's twisting halls and passages, getting hopelessly lost and having to ask for directions to one of the many stairways, just so I could lose my way on the level below. Poor Lorelle, I thought. She was actually going to live here. For all the beauty and magnificence of Cair Paravel, starving to death because you cannot find your way to the banquet hall is hardly worth it.

Staring out of my window the day after my obsessive wine hoarding, with a subtle, cooling breeze smelling of the sea blowing through, I heard a slight rapping on my large, oak door. Who could that be? It was not supper time…I least, I did not think so. I could lose track of time so easily. The rapping grew louder and now became more of a knock.

"Come in!"

"You have it locked, milady, or I would have."

King Edmund? I considered panicking. Was he angry with me for defying his command and drinking more wine the night before? How ridiculous!

"Apologies, my king." Deciding against a panic, I hurried across the room and up the couple of steps that led to the door, turned the lock, and lifted hook, opening it with a loud creak. King Edmund was standing there, arms folded across his chest, hair messy and falling into his eyes as usual, wearing a blue velvet tunic secured with a thick leather belt around the waist, and baggy, brown pants. He was smiling a little, though I was not sure why. "Sire." I curtsied.

"No need for the formalities, milady," he said, looking amused. He was continuously looking amused with things I said. It made me feel rather put-out, to be honest. I was only being polite, after all.

I stood with my hands behind my back and refused to make eye-contact with him.

"I was only coming to see if you would be interested in coming down to the sparring ring," he said, either not noticing or choosing to ignore my hostility. "It would be better than being holed up in a stuffy room day after day."

"Sounds most unladylike," I said cooly.

"Well you never struck me as much of a lady."

The impudence! I pursed my lips together and resisted glaring up at him, for I was most indignant. "Well you don't strike me as much of a man."

"Don't I?" He was looking amused again. "Have you observed me much, milady?"

I hated myself for blushing so red once again.

"I will be training the soldiers all of this afternoon, milady," he finished, and then turning with a smirk, walked off down the hall.

It really had been kind of him to come to me like that, I could not help but think. For nearly fifteen minutes, I debated whether I actually should go down and get out of my "stuffy room," as the king had commented. I had not realized that my absence had been noticed at all, for the whole Cair was a hustle and bustle with preparations for the engagement ball in one week, and the wedding in a little more than a month. Then I would be going home. Surely, I could not spend the whole of the next month stuck away in my chambers, big as they were.

"Erm…might you show me quickest way to the sparring ring?" I questioned one of the fauns standing guard at the end of the passage my chambers were on. He usually stoic face turned a little puzzled.

"Sparring ring, Lady Wren?"

"Yes, as I said."

Giving me quizzical glances, he directed my way to the kitchens where I would get the most direct route to my desired destination out the back entranceway.

It was the sound clashing and shouts and metal scraping along metal that eventually led to where I could see a large group of men, horses, fauns, and various other Narnian creatures surrounding a large area of firmly packed dirt and dust, marked out with four large posts and a thick rope. It was not until I was nearly upon the organized rabble that I could see King Edmund and his friendly opponent clearly as they went at each other hard. The king's velvet tunic was gone, and in its place was merely a thin, white sparring piece, open half-way down the chest, wet and clingy with sweat. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, and his face held concentration and determination, but every so often he would get a good strike and flash a tired grin as he waited for his adversary to attack again.

Off to the side, in the shade of a large tree, I spotted the Queen Lucy watching her brother and leaning slightly of a long, sturdy wooden sword of her own. Lifting up my green skirts a little, to avoid the dust and dirt covering the ground, I quickly made my way over to her.

"Your Majesty!" I called as brightly as I could. She turned to me and beamed widely, dropping the sword and opening up her arms to embrace me.

"Lady Wren! I have wondered when I might see your face about!" she said happily. "But please, call me Lucy, if you will. We are to be sisters, after all! Here." She sat down and spread her lovely pink gown around her, patting the grass beside her for me to do the same.

"You must call me Ren then," I replied with a smile. "My mother and my sister have always called me that."

"Well certainly." Lucy took my hand and squeezed it tightly. Then she turned to gaze back towards the sparring ring. "Is he not absolutely splendid?" she sighed dreamily.

Looking at her quizzically, I realized that she was talking about King Edmund's sparring partner as he flailed his sword about as the king began to advance aggressively.

"No match for Edmund, of course," she said, as the sword flew from the man's hands and landed a good ten feet away. "Nobody's any match for Edmund. Not even Peter, though he never admits it."

We talked there in the shade for a full ten minutes, perhaps longer, watching as Edmund took on another opponent with a vigor I did not think anyone could possess after battling as hard as he had before.

"He looks completely spent now," Lucy noted as her brother finally unarmed the other man and stood there, breathing hard with heaving shoulders, drenched in sweat. The Narnians were cheering gaily and he turned and looked up towards the tree where we sat. I felt my breath hitch. Lucy waved, but he was not looking at her, I realized. He stared at me for a long time, still breathing heavily, and slowly started to smile in a most cheeky manner.

"Watch that centaur," I said, eyes widening as a large creature of half-man and half-horse entered the ring, bowed, and started to charge.

"What-oh! Ed! Edmund!" Lucy cried in alarm, but too late. Edmund turned to block the oncoming blow, but he had not enough time to prepare and fell to the ground, sword flying, with a satisfying thud.


	5. Chapter 5

Of Uncertainty and Kisses

Edmund had disappeared for several days. I had never been able to speak to him after the incident at the sparring ring. I wanted to thank him for the invitation, and perhaps tease him just a wee bit at being bested so quickly by the centaur. From what little I knew of the boy, I instinctively knew that he was the sort of good-natured person who would laugh and make light of their mishaps.

But he was gone even before the evening bell rang for supper. Where, I did not know, but no one else appeared concerned and I was not interested enough to ask. After the first two days I was actually beginning to wonder if anyone would notice if I tried running off myself, but after going out for an entire afternoon and having nearly the whole Cair searching for me on the grounds when I got back, I decided that yes, they might.

Several more days passed, and the young king did not return. Lorelle was looking more vexed than I had ever seen her.

"Susan said he took a patrol to the East Wood," she said as I slowly braided her long, auburn hair, sitting cross-legged on her bed as she sat on the end. This always seemed to relax her when she was out of sorts and fluttery, as she was now. I had only meant to pop in for a moment to see how she was faring, as I had not seen her the whole of the day, but she had looked so pale and listless that I had thought it best to keep company awhile. "I'm told that it's not unusual for him to be gone for such awhile, but, Ren, am I never to know my own husband!"

I had braided six tiny sections of hair on each side of her side-part, and was now weaving them delicately through the main braid down her back. Lorelle did not deserve to be treated like this. King Edmund may be busy with his life as a ruler, but he also had another responsibility now to his bride, and soon, to his wife, and this he was neglecting atrociously. I stewed over his irresponsibility and childish neglect as Lorelle fretted, until I heard her give a sharp "ow!" and realized how hard I was pulling.

"I should never have agreed to this." Her shoulders hunched and started to shake, and she brought her hands up to cover her face.

I did my best to comfort her as she sobbed quietly, heartbroken, but I felt like my words were as meaningless as a blank sheet of paper or an empty box. She had always been the one to comfort me. She had always been brave and strong; I had only ever seen her cry before mother died.

The fire crackled away, and I stared hard at the hot, orange flames and felt my frustration rising higher than the smoke it sent billowing up through the chute.

* * *

Edmund returned the very morning of the day the engagement ball was to be held.

Queen Lucy and I were atop one of the guard watches, where the centaurs strode, keeping watchful eyes on the wilds of the East. We had grown close, Lucy and I, or as close as two people, soon be sisters, could be after only two weeks of acquaintance. We had so much in common, including each of us having an older sister with famed beauty and character to match, and who we had felt so pressured to live up to and follow in the footsteps of. I was a mere two months older than her, but she was natural leader, being a queen and all.

"Ah, finally!" she cried as she spotted him riding out, waving both her hands widely above her head and jumping up and down a little. "I was honestly beginning to think he would miss his own ball. Here! Edmund!"

I did not wave or smile. I could still see Lorelle's red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Leaning out over the edge of the wall, I stared long and hard at that dark, messy head cantering towards the gates. Edmund looked up at Lucy's cries and lifted a hand in greeting as he slowed to a halt. His smile faded slightly as I still refused to do not but stare sullenly.

"Come, Ren!" Lucy said excitedly as she hurried back inside and down the steep stairway to the corridor. I followed quickly, feeling sure that I would get lost if she did not lead me down to the Hall.

Edmund and his beat, weary patrol arrived to many shouts and whistles of greeting and exclamation. High King Peter, Queen Susan, and Lorelle, along with other nobles and my father, of course, were already there, bowing and hugging and shaking hands and cheering. I wondered at why there was such a to-do over a mere patrol party's return after only five days, but then I noticed the bloody bandages and heavy armor and the abundance of dirty swords and empty quivers. That was no patrol.

I watched as Edmund leaned down and gave Lorelle a gentle, tender kiss on the forehead, and watched as she blushed bright red and smiled wider than she had in many a day. Oddly enough, it did not make me feel as happy as I would have thought. I did not feel anything, I just simply stared as they entwined their hands, smiling at each other, and started back into the Cair. Edmund's trousers were torn, and his leather vest smudged with dirt and grime. I could see the chain mail peeking out beneath his tunic. He looked to be in good health and spirits, but did not even glance my way. That was alright though, I thought. At least Lorelle was once more content and joyful, and we all had the ball to look forward to that evening.

Amid the confusion and bustle and many loud sounds, I ducked and twisted my way through the crowd of many creatures gathered in the Hall and, after almost stepping on the tails of at least several mice and a beaver, made my way to the the corridor which lead to several sitting rooms and the Great Library. Peace and quiet was all I wanted for now. The rest of the day would be nothing but commotions and scurrying here and there, but for now I could get a few moments to myself before the storm.

"Milady."

I turned quickly, half-expecting to see the dress maker, who had been pestering me all week with gown preparations, but I could not help but feel a little started when I saw who it was. Edmund, of course. No one else called me by that patronizing title. I smiled tightly and curtsied as he approached with quick strides. "My king, welcome back."

"Please, call me Edmund. I would like to hear you say that instead," he said in a rush as he reached my side and grasped my right hand, which he kissed softly. I knew it was only what a king should do when greeting a lady, but my hand burned where his lips had touched and I was glad the light was dim enough for it to be safe to blush a little.

"Well…" I was a little confused and taken aback as to why he had come after me, and I almost pressed to question him on it, but I could not find the words. "Well then, you must call me by name." He smiled and shook his head. "But nobody calls me milady!"

"I know, but that's why I do, and I think it suits you…milady," he teased, grinning.

I could not understand his behavior.

"I missed you," he said quickly, and then seemed to be almost as surprised to hear that from his lips as I was.

"I was mad at you." Well as long as we are being honest here.

"At me?" He frowned, and for the first time I noticed the jagged gash he had just above his left eyebrow, covered by thick hair. I almost reached up to touch it in concern. "For leaving?"

"Lorelle was upset," I replied, and the confusion on his face immediately cleared and was replaced with a sort of sudden remembrance.

"Ah," he breathed out. "And you think I actually wanted to leave, milady?"

"No," I finally admitted softly. I had not thought it was as serious as it apparently was, and I eyed his cut with growing concern. I wanted to say more, ask more, and perhaps tell him about my sister's concerns, but I found myself suddenly lost in a sea of dark eyes and a gentle smile. Without really knowing what my hands were doing, my fingers reached up and gently brushed aside the hair covering the gash, and touched his cheek delicately. He smirked slightly.

"Worried, milady?"

I detracted my hand quickly and regained my composure and indignation with a swoosh. His smirk deepened.

"You should have that taken care of and cleaned and all that before the ball," I said sharply. "It really is most unbecoming. Your future wife certain won't like it."

Then I turned back and nearly ran the rest of the way down the hall to the library. He did not follow.


	6. Chapter 6

Of Berry Lips and Lavender Loves

I spent the remainder of the day holed up in the library, in the farthest corner where the encyclopedias and dictionaries and translators were kept. I felt sure that no one except the professors, speech instructors and other boring old men ever came back there, though it was still kept perfectly dusted and stark clean.

I felt so foolish and embarrassed at my unruly conduct with young king. There had been a queer atmosphere, an air of something forbidden, something that should not have been there, and I felt like I had betrayed honor and formality itself.

Eventually I roused myself and forced my legs to stand and my feet to carry me up to my chambers, with only one pause of unsureness for direction, where I knew Lucy would probably be waiting to help me dress and do-up my hair. I had promised her she could, for we had both agreed that we could not stand the maids and dressers fussing about for hours and hours, pulling on our hair and pinching our cheeks and plucking our eyebrows. We felt sure we could achieve the same effect without the torture.

She was there, fully dressed in her bright blue gown, sitting by the window and watching as the first carriages and riders started to appear in the distance. She bounded up when she saw me, with a smile and a squeak of excitement.

"I'm sorry! I almost forgot," I apologized quickly, but she waved it away.

"I'm only just now ready myself. Susan was being an absolute pill about my hair and how it should be done," she said with an exasperated sigh. "And then Peter thought my gown was too bright for an evening event, but really! What do men know about such things! He has to have a say in everything though. I haven't even seen Edmund since this morning, but he had a lot of things to worry about, I expect. He's got the most dreadful scrape from a skirmish with some hags yesterday. I expect the black dwarves are also to blame. They seem to be such busy bodies, trying to stir up trouble as much as they do! Oh here, let me help you with that, dear." I had been attempting to slip my incredibly gorgeous red-velvet gown, with the most intricate silver lining, over my head, and had gotten stuck in the middle. Lucy hurriedly undid the laces where my head had caught and pulled it down the rest of the way.

The gown was adorned with the smallest baby diamonds around the modest neckline, and a shining silver belt, decorated with the head of the Great Lion and the legendary white stag. The dress itself, for it being of pure velvet, was surprisingly light and flowed about my feet in deep red waves. It made me want to spin and twirl in a most childish fashion. If it was not for Lucy being present, a queen and a most respectable young woman, I might have.

She was just finishing my hair, her mouth full of pins which prevented her from chattering on as she was, when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Lucy! Are you in there?" Without even waiting for a response, the door was opened and a tall, dark, and very finely dressed person in dark blue took the two steps down in one.

"Edmund, have a care!" Lucy said, spitting out the pins and looking quite exasperated. "These are the chambers of a guest! And a lady, at that." She eyed him with dissatisfaction.

"She's to be my sister, isn't she?" he replied cheekily, grinning. "I'll be sure to save a dance for you, milady. Lu, I-" He stopped short with an abruptness that made both Lucy and I stop ourselves and stare at him with inquiring looks.

"Ed?" Lucy squinted at him, and then snapped her fingers sharply in front of his face. "Wake up, you idiot," she said good-naturedly.

"Lu, Susan says you are to come down immediately." Edmund's voice had become soft and distracted. He was looking at me with an intensity that made the back of my neck tingle and chills run up and down my arms. Averting my eyes from his, I stared at my face in the mirror in front of me. He was probably in shock, and not the good kind, at my flushed cheeks, softly lined eyes, and berry-toned lips, I told myself. I wore makeup with such rarity, and certainly never since my arrival to the Cair. Even Lucy had stared, with a very satisfied smile, when she had stepped back to view her work.

"Most of the guests have arrived and we are to be presented soon." Edmund found his voice finally, and then bowed to us with a nod, which was very out of character, I must say, and left quickly.

"I do believe Edmund was the first of many young men tonight who will be staring and gaping and I dare say lusting after you tonight, you pretty thing," Lucy laughed gleefully. I blushed, despite myself.

"Lucy!" That was Queen Susan, sounding most put-out with her younger sister. "LUCY."

"I think we may be in trouble," she giggle. Fastening the last pin to my waves, half-up and half-down, she gathered up her skirts and motioned me to follow her out and down to where the royals would be presented.

I slipped in through one of the side doors to the ball room. There was no need for me to be presented. No one cared who I was. Everyone was craning their necks to see my beautiful sister, entering on the arm of the dark-haired king. I squeezed my way through the mass of creatures and nobles and knights and ladies, all clad so eloquently, to where I could get a straight view of the main doors, which were just opening. I heard my sister's name, and heard the cheering and whoops of congratulations as the couple entered, both beaming widely and seemingly radiating with contentment. I clapped, smiling softly. Lorelle caught my eye as they neared, and I saw hers were filling with joyful tears. I wanted to cry just seeing her so happy. I knew we would both most definitely be a bucket of tears on the wedding day.

I would tell you more of the ball itself, but I do not remember the most of it. It was so bright and glorious, and full of many drinks and too much food and dancing. It it a terrible misfortune for you if your dancing partner is not among one of the most notable…at all, and that misfortune can be decidedly worsened if said partner happens to have hooves. Sharp hooves, I might add.

It was King Peter who stepped in as a noble rescuer for me. Looking ever so dashing in a red and gold tunic with a lion's head etched in purple, he swept me away for the next two dances and most of a third, until we both nearly collided with two dwarves and had to stop in a fit of suppressed giggles and laughter. I saw a whole new side to the high king. He was still a boy at heart, much like his brother, I noted. He asked about my interests and how I was finding my way around the Cair now, and if I had been in the ocean yet. With a mischievous smirk playing on his face, he plotted a way we could prank Edmund by filling his bath with sea water, which he so despised. I was shocked and entirely delighted with his childishness.

Edmund, of course, danced mostly with his fiancee, as he should. I found that my eyes kept drifting over to where they swayed about the room to the rhythmic waltz, and danced merrily to the lively jigs. They could have been completely in love by the way they clasped their hands, smiled into each other's eyes, and remained together for most of the evening.

My head was starting to spin and I felt my eyes grow heavy, but not in a sleepy manner. Feeling chocked and stuffy, I made quick an escape, slipping out one of the open doorways which led to the gardens.

Breathing in fresh air with a hearty gasp, I reached up and began to unpin Lucy's elaborate up-do to free my poor scalp of the sticking, weighted feeling. The gardens were lit bright with small torches, which flickered in the gentle gusts of the night winds. It was a lovely scene and the scent of the roses and lavender reminded me of home.

"What are you thinking about?"

I jumped about a foot into the air and gasped loudly, closing my eyes and putting a hand on my chest in relief and I turned and saw who my intruder was.

"Edmund! Stop sneaking up on me every time you want to say something!" I exclaimed in annoyance, my heart still beating from its mini heart-attack. "Every time. Every single time! I'll stop talking to you if it ever happens again. I mean it! Stop smiling like that. It's not funny. Edmund, stop it. I'll tell Susan you've been vexing me!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." Edmund grinned at me, and he did not look sorry at all. "I'm a trained scout. It's not my fault, you silly girl."

I scowled, as I thought a child would, at the name, but at least it was something other than "milady" for once. Although I found that I did not mind that title as much as I thought. It was perhaps the way he said it, with almost a mockery that was mocking mock itself.

"Well?"

"Well?" I looked confused.

"Well what were you thinking about?" He walked closer and leaned against the trunk of a small plum tree, full of ripe fruit. "You had a queer smile on your face."

I studied him thoughtfully. "Home," I finally admitted. "Well…a boy at home, actually."

Edmund raised his eyebrows.

"He brought me lavender a couple times," I continued, and looking back now, I am sure that a most ridiculous, dreamy expression was on my face. "Father never approved though. He was below our station."

"Ah," Edmund sighed, folding his arms across his broad chest and smiling, with approval it looked like. "Kitchen boy? Street urchin? Town drunk?"

Shooting him an indignant look, I folded my own arms and raised my eyebrows, mimicking his stance. "He was the son of the town butcher, you stuck-up, pompous, proud, inconsiderate man." That only made him look amused. "To be completely honest with you, I still rather like him."

"You do?"

"Quite."

Edmund pursed his lips and folded his arms more tightly against himself. "Well have your own way, milady."

"You disapprove?"

"Quite."

Taken aback, I lowered my eyebrows and squinted a little, feeling a sudden rush of awkwardness and embarrassment. I wanted to ask why, for I knew that King Edmund was not one to judge a person by their station in life, so there must be another reason, but I suddenly felt quite shy and grew quiet.

Edmund smirked, but he said no more and I felt greatly impulsed to return inside, to the lights, laughter, and music. Curtsying politely, I made my escape, not daring to cast a glance in his eye, but I could feel those dark eyes boring into my back all the way, until I was well into the crowd of swarming bodies.

This was not how it should be. There was something very wrong about this feeling.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to update! I can't promise that I will be able to again soon, but I will do my best. I hope you're all enjoying it so far, and thank you for the kind reviews and helpful tips!**

**This story was inspired by two beautiful songs: "The Prayer," from Les Miserables, and "Symphony No. 2 in E Minor Op. 2," by Rachmaninoff.**

Of Honesty and Consequences

"You think _what_?"

I took a step back and scowled a little with indignance at the dryad who stared a me in shock and horror. Her usually calm, slim, silver face bubbled with astonishment and her green eyes were widening. Her wispy, floating hair seemed almost as if it could stand straight on end. I eyed the silver brushes she was clutching in a dangerously firm grip.

Menlai was my maid, or one of them at least, but she and I had formed a sort of bond since my arrival, and I could almost say that we were friends, of a sort. She was, of course, many, many years older than I, but still looked young and full of life, as every dryad did. We talked about a great many personal things as she did my hair, fastened my dress, drew my baths, and other various tasks about the room, and I had come to feel very comfortable with spouting out just about anything that might come to mind. However, this time I fear I said too much.

Stepping forward cautiously, I took the brushes she had been doing my hair with out of her hands and sat back down on the stool, continuing to brush the tangled mass myself as she slowly recovered her senses.

"Honestly. It's not like I could possibly be the first," I sighed with exasperation.

"He's marrying your sister," she said pointedly.

"Don't you think I know that?" I cried, jerking the brush with a ferocity that made me wince. She quickly grabbed it away again and began to pin back the locks in a neat bun. "I only said that I think I like him, but I feel like I hardly know him, even though we've gone on several rides together, with Lucy of course, and talked so much here and there. He's just so terribly nice. And what about the butcher's boy? I've known Pall all my life and practically promised myself to him already! But there's just something about the king. It's so difficult to understand. I don't want to understand! Oh Aslan, listen to me, I'm such a fool!" I very much wanted to cry, and I probably would have had Menlai gotten compassionate and tried comforting words to soothe me, but she just continued to pin back my hair in silence as I whined and squirmed in my seat.

"Yes, you are a fool," she said finally, as she finished her work and took out a pot of herbal-scented lotion for my arms and ankles. "But His Majesty is a bigger fool."

I looked at her questioningly.

"He is attracted to you, Lady Wren, and it scares him, I can tell."

"Do not tell me that any man would look at me over my sister, Menlai," I said sharply, feeling almost taunted. I rubbed the fragranced lotion up and down my arms and wished most desperately that I had never said anything. "He befriends me only because we are to be brother and sister. I don't see you talking that way about King Peter, who danced with me so long at the ball!"

"I don't see King Peter looking at you the way his brother does either," Menlai replied in a most matter-of-fact manner. Picking up several little daisy flowers she began to weave their long stems into my hair. "I have been around far longer than most in this land, and I have seen much of love and friendship. I know the difference."

"King Edmund does not love me." I was a little startled at her choice of words. I had mentioned nothing of love. "I only said I liked him. Doesn't every other girl within two hundred miles! That does not mean he likes or loves or even feels attracted to any of us. We're just a sea of hopelessly lost souls which he will never shed a tear for."

"Indeed," she chuckled, tucking the last flower daintily next to my ear. "But you forget one thing, Lady Wren."

"What is that then?"

"Every other girl is not _you_."

* * *

Perhaps I am a foolish girl, or perhaps the tearful tales of lost loves, haunting romances, and dangerous beauty told by elders and nannies on winter evenings and stormy nights were inspired by those, like me, who knew not where their life lead and what they felt, and ended up jumping to bad conclusions and bally rotten endings, like that of Romeo and Juliet, as Lucy had related to me. What a depressing tale! The land where their majesties had come from must have been hard up for storytellers if this Shakspeare fellow was considered a writer of great literature. Pondering these weighty matters of the world, I stood out in the largest courtyard, right outside the Cair's great doors, in the pouring rain. It had been storming for several days, and I could not bear another cooped up within its walls, wandering about the passages and losing to Lucy and Peter in games of chess. I had become comfortable and well at-ease among the royals, though Edmund I had not seen for quite awhile.

The lovely shower of cool, fresh goodness was a breath of relief from all the kerfuffle of the wedding preparations which I had bore the whole morning long. I was wet…very wet, but it was hot and it felt so good.

"Lady Wren!"

Bother it all.

"Lady Wren, your hair! Your dress! Your slippers!"

I lifted my skirts slightly and peered down. I was not wearing slippers.

The young, she-faun stared at my bare feet in obvious shock, and I was tempted to point out how she was bare-hoofed as well. I watched as she came out with a large, black umbrella, tip-toeing around the puddles as best she could. It was rather kind of her. She was only a maid and could have sent one of the guards. With great reluctance, I ducked under the umbrella and dragged myself up the many steps, going back in through the great doors, conscious of the four centaurs standing guard on either side mentally rolling their eyes and sighing deep down at my childish behavior. The Hall was abustle with servants hurrying to and fro, and nobles tripping over them, and other creatures whose purpose I could not fathom. The wedding was less than four days away.

"Ren!" Lorelle's voice sounded distinct above the busy hum of noise as she spotted me trudging, sopping, towards the main staircase. I turned stiffly, for now I was getting cold and felt a chill creeping up my back. She neared in dark, rusty orange, swishing skirts, and a concerned but reproaching frown on her face

"I'm sorry, I just went outside for a moment…"

"Whatever for?" she questioned, as if the idea was quite appalling. It probably was to her. I shrugged and clutched my skirts, squeezing a bit of the water out to trickle down about my feet.

"Your slippers-"

"Oh, Lorelle, stop it already," I snapped coldly, "you don't have to watch me like a child anymore. Father does that enough for you both. You have a wedding to get ready for, don't you? That seems to be a plenty busy job, now leave me be."

I grabbed up my soaking dress and made to hike the rest of the way of the long staircase, but stopped short and felt my heart jump sickeningly as I spotted the tall, dark figure coming down slowly, looking at us and smirking. Lorelle's eyes widened, but then she blushed and smiled hesitantly. Edmund stopped a couple steps above mine and cocked an eyebrow.

"Quarreling sisters? That shall never do!"

"We're not quarreling," I said in the same, cold voice, "and if you don't mind, it's really none of your business."

Faking offense at my words, Edmund raised both eyebrows and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "Is that so, oh fiery one?" he taunted playfully.

"She's only in a bad mood because she got her feet wet," Lorelle spoke up in distaste and I turned to glower at her. "If you don't want to be treated like a child, Ren, stop acting like one."

"You must never ask the impossible, my dear," I heard Edmund say in a teasing manner. I felt a lump growing in my throat and the stairs started to get blurry. Furious, and by now chilled to the bone, I blinked away the unwanted tears as rapidly as I could, turning my head so neither of them could see. I was hurt and angry, even though I knew they only meant their words in fun.

"Well then you must excuse me." My voice was colder than cold, ice-cold, downright freezing. "I'm sure you two most perfect lovebirds will want to be rid of my despicable, childish presence as soon as is fathomly possible. I have a busy afternoon with all the toys that need playing with."

"Mud pies?" Edmund tugged at my hair as I made my way by, taking care to accidentally slap his leg with my wet skirts. I jerked away roughly.

"Pig slop, more likely," Lorelle giggled.

With them at my back, the tears spilled unhindered, and I am sure my face was squinched and bright red and looking quite dreadful indeed. I wanted to run, but only children ran. I was not a child.

Of course, after about several passages and feeling sure that they could not possibly see or hear me in any way, shape, or form, I ran, sobbing loudly, paying no heed to the stares and gasps of the servants and guards I whipped passed. Reaching my chambers, I slammed the door as hard as I could, though it being of heavy oak that was not as satisfactory and loud as I would have liked at all. I leaned back against the cold wood and slowly breathed my shaky sobs to a stop. I scolded myself and thought how silly I was being. Why did it hurt so much?

There was a soft knock, and a low voice, almost a whisper, said my name gently and softly. I turned around quietly and pressed my ear against the boards. I could not tell who it was, though I was already assuming either Menlai, for I had probably passed her flying down the corridors, or Lorelle, feeling badly for her ridicule. I shivered and scrunched my sopping hair against my head, unwilling to open the door to both, and feeling very tempted to bolting it shut and sulking alone the rest of the day.

The knock was a little more firm the second time, and the voice a little louder. "Wren?" The thick door muffled the sound, but I could tell that it was too deep for a lady, so perhaps Mr. Tumnus had also seen me and come to see what was ailing me. He was awfully kind, and I knew I would feel ashamed if I ignored him so.

I heaved a long sigh and plunked myself down upon the top step, leaning back against the door again and staring up at the ceiling. "Go away, please."

"Milady."

"You." I jumped up and grabbed the bolt, sliding it into place with a loud clank. "Your _majesty_," I hissed through gritted teeth, "shouldn't you be out playing with your wooden swords or wooing the court ladies with all your pretty sayings and gallant speeches, probably attained only through a magic potion of witty 'tongueness'."

There was a deep sigh and a muffled thump, a long silence, and then another sigh and a shuffling of feet. "I'm sorry, dear Wren."

My stubborn, foolish pride kept my mouth shut and I refused to acknowledge his apology as sincere, but I slid the bolt out and turned the handle slowly, and most reluctantly, brushing the last couple tears only cheeks away so he could not see that I had been crying.

"You've been crying."

"I have not."

Edmund raised an eyebrow, reaching out and touching my cheek softly. I shivered slightly. "Yes, you have."

"It's none of your blessed business, your most royal highness." I moved to shut the door again, but he stopped me with his arm and entered uninvited.

"Knowing how you are, I doubt you're going to change out of those clothes any time soon," he said, making his way over to the large wardrobe. I stared in shock.

"What are you doing?"

"Come here," he ordered, pulling out a light pink, satin gown with a beautiful velvet sash and light peach trimming. It look dry and warm and comfy. "Shut the door, or do you want the whole of Cair to view your undergarments?"

My cheeks flushed and I let go of the handle, letting it slowly swing close on its own. I still wanted to be mad at him. It was easier if I was mad. "I'm not changing into that," I said stiffly.

Edmund scowled. "Well what about this one?" He reached for a dark purple and gold gown of great finery. I almost laughed.

"That's meant for balls!"

"Forgive my ignorance of gowns," he said, in mock crossness. Taking up the pink one again he held it out to me.

"I don't want it."

"Oh hang it all, Wren!" he exclaimed. Tossing the dress across a chair, he crossed the room in quick strides and reached to undo my laces. I squirmed away.

"I can do it!"

"You can't do it."

"I'll get a maid."

"They're all busy."

"Anyone but you."

"What's wrong with me?"

I reached back and grabbed his hand, before he could completely undo my dress, but at that move he suddenly grabbed my wrists and pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms tight against my stomach and resting his forehead heavily on my shoulder. I froze for barely a second, before melting against his body with a shiver and a sigh.

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered again, and I felt his warm breath against my partially naked back.

"You're…you're marrying Lorelle," I breathed, feeling the lump in my throat returning. Jumping to my senses, I pulled myself out of his grasp and reached to pull my dress together as best as I could, feeling shocked and ashamed. Edmund stared at me with an expression I had never seen him wear; he looked sad, but he was smiling ever so slightly and his eyes held a gentle warmth that was unquestionable. I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted blood, wanting desperately to bury my face in his chest and sob, though I did not quite know why. It was just a feeling.

"I don't want to marry Lorelle," he spoke finally, and his words caused my breath to hitch. The intensity of his gaze was paralyzing.

"Don't be ridiculous." I held my dress even tighter.

"I want to marry someone I love."

"Edmund, you can't talk like this."

"Someone not only worth dying for, but living for.

"You need to leave, now."

"I want to marry you."


	8. Chapter 8

Of Simple Love and Unending Sorrow

Days flew by, but time stood still. I was caught in those few seconds, that moment when forbidden words had been spoken and forbidden feelings released, when I was given the chance, the one chance, to say but a word and have every wish and dream of mine suddenly become reality. In those fleeting moments I had become so intensely aware of how much I truly loved the younger king. When his hair was white and whisky, and when his skin was wrinkled and tough with age, his nails brittle and back bent, I knew I would still love him. My chest ached and my sopping body could not even manage to shiver. I was so still, eyes locked with his in a stare-down known by many to only be broken with a kiss.

"I love you."

A long, heavy, silence, so deafening to us both, and then I managed to splutter, "I love you too."

Words spoken by so many lovers.

Edmund's face broke into a gentle smile, but he did not move, he just continued to stare at me, breathing heavily, as though he had just come running from the dining hall. I felt the urgency to fling myself into his arms and cling to those shoulders with every ounce of strength in my body.

_But…Lorelle._

This would break her, hurt her so very much. Everyone must feel the pains of hurt and disappointment, betrayal and heartache, at some point in their lifetime, but by Aslan's mane, I would not be the cause of hers. If I was meant to marry Edmund, then the marriage would have been arranged for me, and it was not.

I cried. I choked on my own tears, slowly slipping down into a chair, refusing to let him near me, begging him to leave, trying to make him understand why none of this was possible_. _It must never be spoken of again.

He tried to touch my hand, my head, to make me lift my head to meet his gaze, but sobs racked my frame and I pushed him away again and again, on the verge of screaming for him to get out, and he finally left, closing the door with a loud bang I wished I was capable of achieving.

My body felt weighted and unmovable and I felt the chance for happiness and content in my life whisk itself away as Edmund's feet carried him farther and farther away from my door. Most girls would have kept themselves locked away for at least the remainder of the day, but a few hours passed and I dried my eyes, changed into a long, silk nightgown and robe, despite the fact that it was only the early evening, and ventured cautiously out down the corridors, desperate to see him just once. My heart ached as though death had claimed a prize, and I needed a glimpse. Just one.

It was was the dinner hour, but I found him in the library, quite alone, with his back facing the door. His hair was mussed and his clothes were casual and disorderly, and I guessed that he had been out training the soldiers in the sparring ring and had not bothered to wash and change. My bare feet were silent on the cold stones, and I watched him, as though in a trance, as he flipped through the pages of a large, leather-bound novel.

I backed away slowly and tiptoed quickly back down the long hall. I would not see him again until the wedding. Then everything would be done with and nothing could be changed. Sweet Lorelle would be as happy as she had ever deserved. She would never have to live with Father again.

I took long rides into the woods and across the meadows, along the shoreline and under the jutting ridges of the cliffs, refusing to let myself think of anything but the beauty of what I was experiencing at that moment. There were some places in Narnia which I could swear were comparable to heaven itself.

The morning of the great day dawned with dark skies and thick clouds, heavy with unfallen rain. I loved the smell of fresh rain, though, and I leaned as far out of my window as I could, sniffing the air with probably the ridiculous smile of content, feeling the hurt and sorrow I held partly drift away with the gentle, moist breeze that hit my face and kissed my hair.

Breakfast was brought up to Lucy, Susan, myself, and the bride in Lorelle's chambers that morning. She was bursting with nervousness and excitement, hardly touching the feast of raspberry tarts, eggs, toast, the sweetest jam, ham, potatoes, honey, and so much more. (How hungry did they imagine us to be?) Then the two queens and I had to rush back to our rooms to bathe and gown so that we could help Lorelle, even though she already had an army of servants there to assist in her every need.

My bath water was steaming and made my skin turn bright pink. The smell of roses filled the rooms with strong intensity. Menlai gently blew on my wet hair, and it was dry in seconds. She twisted it into a soft, low up-do which rested lightly on my neck, held up with pins and a net of the finest horsehair, leaving wispy ringlets to hang about my face. It made me look so much older and wiser. Then she applied a thin powder of rouge, barely lined the tops of my eyes with charcoal, and darkened my lips ever so slightly with the stain of finely crushed red berries. The gown was light and simple, but the most beautiful piece of clothing I had ever worn. A soft cream with light blue ribbons wrapping the sleeves, and delicate gold pearls sewn into the waistline and hem. It slipped over my body in a ripple of elegance, hugging all the right places. The neckline was curved and not too low, showing off the thin, dainty necklace, on which dangled one baby diamond, perfectly.

I almost fell over several mice, a faun, and one large, grumpy dwarf as I hurried back to Lorelle's chambers, fretful that I had taken too long. This was her day, not mine, and she had to look perfect. Seeing her so radiant and happy at breakfast, I had almost forgotten the throbbing pain I would have to bear and hide the whole day through.

I let myself in, puffing as though I had just run a great distance. Lucy sat on the end of the bed, across the room, dressed all in pink and wearing her silver crown. Looking to me her eyes widened and she gasped, a large grin spreading itself across her face.

"Oh, Ren! Just look at you! Oh my goodness, you look so old!"

"Steady on, I'm not a grandma yet," I said, smiling and giving her a quick hug as she extended her arms.

"Susan's still getting ready. She'll probably be awhile," Lucy giggled.

I felt a sudden warmth suddenly hit my face, and looking up, gasped in delight as the bright rays of a morning sun shot through the tall window and lit up the room. The dark clouds had broken, and blue sky was appearing more and more as each second passed.

Lucy clapped her hands and bounced a little, jumping up to run and lean out far over the sill, breathing in the crisp air in deep gulps. "Aslan must be here!"

"Really?" I asked in excitement, coming up to lean out beside her. I had never met the Great Lion. Hardly anybody had. My heart began to beat furiously and I felt a chill run up my spine.

"He will be performing the ceremony, of course!" Lucy exclaimed. "Hadn't you heard?"

"I guess I haven't been around the wedding preparations and discussions and such too much lately," I admitted softly. Of course I had not. Edmund was always there…

"Ren, is that you?" Lorelle called from the other room. "It's almost time! Ugh this gown is gorgeous, but there are so many laces to tie up! Come in here, both of you. I'm having such a time trying to decide on the earrings to wear. Do you think I should wear any rings? Perhaps just on my right hand? And flowers, do you think I should have some flowers in my hair, or will they just wilt by the end of the day? Oh do get in here will you!"

* * *

Time was ticking. The Coronation Hall was packed and the mixed scents of a great feast and dozens of bouquets of beautiful flowers and strings of greenery filled the halls and every room in the Cair. Every door and window was open, welcoming the sun, awaiting the celebrations to begin. Firstly though, there had to be something to celebrate. Lorelle had to be the most beautiful bride there had ever been, comparable to even the goddesses. She was ready, and I was scared. The start of the ceremony was frightfully close.

I stood just outside one of the high archways which led in to the room at the side up close to the thrones, gaping in wonder at the magnificence and splendor of the scene before me. So many creatures, so many colors. The banners were hung and flowers and vines and peacock feathers covered the walls and hung down from the tall, glass ceiling. If only Mother were here. She would be so happy. So proud.

My gaze and attention was so intent upon the beauty of the scene before me, that I did not notice the velvety shadow creeping down the hallway coming towards me, until it leant against one of the pillars, on the other side of the archway, and breathed out deeply. I turned my head slowly, my eyes flickering gradually until they met with those deep, brown orbs.

The pillar was cool, and I rested my forehead against the sleek marble coating, desperate to move but unable even to barely blink.

"You are so beautiful."

I refused to speak, and I am not sure that I could have even if I had so wished. His words touched the most tender spot in my heart and brought a dampness to my eyes, but I would not let tears fall.

"I can stop this, Ren. Please. Say anything, just anything, and I will go immediately and talk to Aslan. He will understand, I know it. _Please, Ren_."

"You do not know the first thing about me, King Edmund the Just." I saw him flinch as I addressed him as my ruler. "My sister is waiting for you. She has been waiting for this moment all of her life. You think I would rob her of all her hope for happiness?"

"She is robbing you of yours!" Edmund's voice was low, but I heard the disparity and the scream for me to listen to his voice.

"It's not her fault!" I wanted to shake him, and kiss him, and cling to him until my fingers broke from the urgency. My heart was pounding dangerously, and it was all I could do to choke back the lump in my throat and furiously blink away the tears.

"Ren, Ren, listen to me. Listen to me, please! I _love_ you. I want to marry you. I want to have children with you. I want to kiss you, and _touch_ you. I want to see you face every day, and hear your voice every hour. Lorelle does not truly love me, and she deserves to truly love someone, don't you think? You will be helping her. You-"

"Edmund." I cut him off, my shoulders starting to shake and my voice breaking. Tears spilled, and I pressed my face against my palms and bent down in agony, shaking my head again and again. I loved him. I loved him so very much.

Edmund closed the distance between us in a moment, reaching out and enclosing my body in his large, strong arms, pressing kisses to my hair and temples. He was warm and his scent was intoxicating, his movements gentle and loving.

But no. No. No.

I could not look at his face as I pulled myself away hastily and backed away, as if he was a threatening object, folding my shaking arms tightly across my chest.

"You have a beautiful bride, waiting to hear those words from you this day," I said softly. Head still lowered, I turned to leave.

"I will never say those words to any other."

* * *

The wedding passed far too slowly. It was not beautiful to me. I saw it in black and white, in a trance, barely able to move my feet from one place to another. I watched as Lorelle's and Edmund's lips met for the first time, and felt my knees weaken and my body slump. Mr. Tumnus caught me around the waist, and as soon as they had made it back down the isle after the ceremony, he helped me to some water and sat with me for a long while.

Once the celebrations had begun, I looked for an opportunity to slip away unnoticed. I felt Edmund's eyes on me at every move I made, but I never looked at him. He was with my sister. I had to call him "brother" now.

There was horses in the stable, there was food in the kitchens, there was miles and miles of beautiful country to explore. No one would even notice...

**Would love** **to hear any thoughts :)**


	9. quick question!

Hello everyone, I hope to start updating much more regularly again since I have a lot of ideas and inspirations, but first I wanted to make sure y'all want me to keep going with this. I know Edmund and most of the characters and scenes are more based on the movies and not exactly what C. S. Lewis wrote, so let me know if you think I should go on and finish or just ditch it

:)


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